


farewell voyager, farewell my heart

by therevengers



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/F, F/M, Grief/Mourning, In which I make assumptions about 13's personality, One Shot, Wild use of pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 22:42:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14067183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therevengers/pseuds/therevengers
Summary: Thirteen goes to Clara's grave to say goodbye.





	farewell voyager, farewell my heart

Slipping out of the TARDIS, the Doctor let out a shaky breath as she closed the door behind her. It wasn’t too late, she could turn back and run off to some far off planet. She could run away and avoid this moment for the rest of her lives, surely she would understand. As the Doctor locked the door and slipped the key into her bum bag, she made her way to the gates that stood as a warning for what she was about to see, for what she was about to witness. In all of their travels the Doctor never thought that their story would lead them to this spot. He had been young and foolish with dreams of eternally travelling stars with the one who had saved him in more ways than one. The one person he had wanted to save but was incapable of.

It was mostly a human tradition, visiting the grave of a loved one. But the Doctor had to admit to herself that it might be helpful for her own emotions. It wasn’t as if she had any other link to her. It was impossible for them to see each other again and it was unlikely that she would run into an echo. She needed to say goodbye at least.

Pushing the gate open slowly, the Doctor took another shaky breath as she entered the cemetery. It was a warm day and the sun was shining brightly in the sky, that was just about right, she thought to herself. She didn’t fancy falling apart in the middle of a graveyard in the pouring rain, that was one trope the Doctor wanted to avoid. They weren’t going to become another stereotype, they had already had enough of those.

The Doctor decided against bringing any flowers, she doubted that it would appreciated and it would probably bring up a lot of questions. No, instead she walked to the grave with nothing but herself and her memories. Though a part of herself wished she had brought something when she saw a woman place a bouquet of daisies on a grave. It was a tradition after all and it might make her look more _normal_. Though the Doctor doubted she would ever be able to pass as _normal_ nor would she want to. That was something that _she_ would agree with.

Turning her head away, she continued on her path. The Doctor concluded that she would bring something next time, maybe a souffle or a maybe she would her old guitar to play. She still knew how to play it though she doubted she was as good as her previous incarnation. It would also be meaningful and it would perhaps make up for the last time he had played for her unknowingly Granted, that hadn’t been his fault but she needed to do it again. _Closure_. That was what she needed.

As she approached the grave, the Doctor felt herself freeze. For a second she felt deja vu. Memories flooded of a younger him watching from afar as a girl cried in front of a grave, clutching tightly to a book that would start their story. She also remembered a younger him crouching down to read the grave of a governess, unaware of the events thats would follow. The events that would lead to him eventually becoming the hybrid. He had been young and naive and enamoured with the enigma of _her_.

The epitaph was different this time. _Do not go gentle into that good night._ The Doctor thought that was very fitting.

Tracing the letters of the grave, the Doctor lamented, “ _My Clara_.”

The Doctor had so much to say, so much she had to admit. Making sure to avoid the flowers, the Doctor knelt by the grave and allowed herself to finally cry. She hadn’t had the chance to, not properly at least. The memory wipe and and dealing with her regeneration hadn’t given her the chance to mourn properly.

“How about I tell you about what I’ve been up too?” The Doctor murmured, wringing her hands.

With that the Doctor recounted his travels with Bill and locking Missy in the vault. She recalled the moment he regained his memories and regenerated into her current form which was a surprise, a happy surprise though. The Doctor recounted the time she met Graham and Yasmin and Ryan. She talked for what must have been hours, flourishing her words with wild hand movements to demonstrate what she meant.

As she concluded with her tales, she looked around and realised that the sun was setting. The cemetery would be closing soon and she needed to leave it for today. Slowly standing to her feet, the Doctor turned to the grave and smiled sadly.

Wiping away her tears, the Doctor mumbled, “I promise I won't forget you again."

She laid her hand on the gravestone and muttered, "I'll see you later, yeah?"

The Doctor thought about adding something else. But there was no need, Clara already knew. She had been there at the cloisters and now the Doctor also remembered. The Doctor remembered the _duty of care_ and there was nothing in the universe that would stop her returning to the grave. She remembered the _I love you_ after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this when I should have been doing my history coursework. But I couldn't let this idea go so here you are. It's short and I'm not sure about the ending. The use of pronouns is based on the fact that the Doctor used both he&she for the Master/Missy.
> 
> title is from television show vikings (4x20)
> 
> if you want you can follow me on tumblr at romanrory


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